


Just Dinner

by Not_I_Sir_Not_I



Category: Lewis (TV)
Genre: Flirting, Fluff, Multi, Pre-Slash If You Squint, non-canon compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-29
Updated: 2014-11-29
Packaged: 2018-02-27 11:05:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2690531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Not_I_Sir_Not_I/pseuds/Not_I_Sir_Not_I
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Laura and I are going to dinner." Jean puts the cap on her pen. "But you're welcome to join us, James."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just Dinner

The light from a trio of candles flickers against the crystal of their wine glasses, making the wine glow as if lit from within. Heavy silverware, thick linen, artfully arranged food is making his teeth hurt from the want of it.

James Hathaway is used to eating food from a bag, take away curries and a bottle of beer. The occasional salad alone. Plastic forks rather than silverware. A pad of lined paper in lieu of a placemat. Eating to get it over with so that he can push on. Far too much to do as he trains to be an Inspector.

"Is this a typical evening out for you two?" James wonders, sipping water to keep from nervously draining his wine.

Jean shares a quizzical look with Laura. "Typical? No, we change it up. Went clubbing last week."

"Clubbing." His gaze shifts from one to the other. Are they teasing him? No, apparently they went clubbing. _And why not? Two attractive women. Of course they went clubbing._ He feels himself smile and unsuccessfully tries to bite it back. 

"Care to join us next time?" Laura's calling him on his smile, thinking that he is making fun of them. 

"I'd like that very much," he says, sincerely. "This is a treat. I usually don’t do this—" he opens his hand on the table to indicate the wine, the meal.

"James came in at the end of the day and announced that, due to a clerical error, he was unemployed," Jean says.

"I seem to be plagued with clerical errors," he says, picking up a fork. 

"He had a six hour gap where he was between sergeant and inspector. Officially, I was not his boss and he was not my employee. He asked me to dinner." Her eyes sparkle in the low light. "I think he was planning on discussing budget allocations."

Laura swirls her wine before taking a measured sip. "And what makes you think that will change if I'm here? I have a shopping list, too."

James stops mid chew, quickly glancing at them both, and drops his eyes to his plate as if the fettucine there is fascinating and sets down his fork. He clasps his hands. "I wanted an opportunity to talk with you—" he takes in Laura's gaze—"both of you. As friends."

"Something wrong, James?" Laura's hand is on his own. 

Jean frowns, concerned.

"No, nothing like that. I just—" He goes pink, looks over their heads, sighs.

Jean grins suddenly. "Inspector training, isn't it? Where they hammer home the need to be sociable with your peers, your superiors. 'Associate with personnel at the level to which you aspire.'"

James purses his lips. "It's just dinner." 

"Mighty fancy for 'just dinner.' Getting used to that bump in salary already?" Laura says, her eyes sparkling in the low light. 

Jean's hand trails up and down her wine glass and she gives him a speculative look. She had been telling them about her wine tasting group. She selected a California red that paired well with the meal they'd ordered. "What do you do, James?"

He smirks at her, raises both eyebrows in acknowledgment, inclines his head. _Standard dating conversation. Not that I have much experience with that._ "Work. What do you do--" he pauses deliberately, his use of her first name awkward and unfamiliar, "--Jean?"

"I supervise a walking Wikipedia. Used to supervise a Geordie copper who gave me stomach pains. Yet I wouldn't change a moment of that. And you? Who do you work for?"

He stares at the tablecloth and then looks deliberately at Laura, more certain of what to say as he gazes at her. "I had a boss, a gentle and kind man who loved everyone." Seeing Laura tear up, he reaches for her hand over the table, squeezing it briefly before letting it go. _She knows how I feel about him. Shares that feeling._

Laura sniffs, smiles, and glances away.

"He left me to take care of carrots." 

Laura snorts a laugh. James sighs. "And now I work for this," he tilts his head, his eyes narrowing speculatively as he tests this new relationship. He teases, "I work for this harridan who is bent on riding me into the ground with her talk of budget constraints on investigative procedures."

Jean bites back a smile, briefly glancing at Laura, and then gives him an innocent look. "Do you really see me riding you, James?" Her voice is deliberately husky.

His eyes widen and his cheeks pink. He draws his hands into his lap and stares out the restaurant window. Then he looks down, embarrassed. He rallies and meets her gaze. He moistens his lips. "Yes."

"Ink's dry on my divorce papers," Jean teases, picking up her wine glass. 

"Oh." He anxiously scans the table, diving into the bread basket for distraction. He butters a slice of bread. "Are congratulations in order for that or condolences?" He shrugs. "The ending of a marriage seems sad. I never know what to say." He looks at Laura, and then Jean. His voice is kind. "Saying 'I'm sorry' seems inadequate. Especially when you know both parties wanted it to work." 

Jean pours more wine for all of them. "It is sad. I feel at loose ends occasionally. Most of my friends divorced years ago. They're past the grieving and don't understand why I'm not jumping for joy and getting out there and having fun again."

"Just when you think you're past the grieving for what you had, even if it was time to go your separate ways, it sometimes hits you that you're alone." Laura smiles slightly. Toasts James with her wine. "If you've always been alone, though, you don't know that you're lonely, do you?" She gives him a rueful smile. "If you become close to someone it's an adjustment, being alone again. Not a bad thing, though. Different. Sometimes different is good," she smiles warmly at Jean.

"It is that." James tilts his head, gazes at the river outside the window. "Do you know how often Lewis and I would sit and look at that view? Well, we'd be down river at the pub, of course, having the special, but I miss having a pint after work. I know that can't begin to compare to what you had, though."

"Of course it does." Laura's voice is reassuring, kind. "You were just as close for so many years. Now he's off playing pensioner, traveling. Gone for months, he says." Laura chuckles. "I miss having him underfoot. You must miss that too." She huffs a soft laugh. "I miss sitting on the sofa with him watching telly. I don't miss the snoring."

James suppresses a grin, and turns to Jean, curious, but uncertain if he should ask. "Do you miss the mysterious Mr. Innocent?"

"It's not that I miss him. I've always made everything work—and believe me, supervising you two was work—" she smiles at James to take the sting out of her words. "But sometimes it feels as if it's a black mark, failing to keep a marriage together. You don't expect to become part of the statistic." She breathes deeply. "The worst part is that we were together for so long. Friends and colleagues ask why now, what happened, did he have an affair, did you have an affair. It's so hard to say, 'No, it was the next step.'"

"Other people's marriages are a perpetual source of amazement,” James says the phrase as if it is a quote.

"Patrick O'Brian? Does it help, James, having a quote for all occasions?" Laura butters her bread and glances up. 

He settles back in his chair. "When I don't know what to say, yes, it does." He picks up his wine, absently sipping it, but not tasting it. Thinking. "So tell me more about your work, Jean, with this know-it-all. Do you see yourself moving up in the ranks?"

Jean shares a puzzled look with Laura. "Possibly. Where is this going?"

"If you moved up, you wouldn't be my supervisor."

"Are you after my job, James?" Jean half laughs, incredulous. She places her hand against her neck and then fiddles with her earring.

"Not at all." He quirks a smile.

"If I became CID, you wouldn't see me every day." Jean says, eyes only on James.

"And you'd miss her," Laura's voice is chipper, she divides her gaze between the two of them.

"True," says James, "I'd have to make special arrangements so that you could berate me."

Jean chuckles. "Sounds curiously like an incentive to me," her hand brushes his as she reaches for her wine. "I'll have to look into promotion."

_Is she--flirting with me?_ James wonders.

James finishes his wine, surveys the restaurant. "There are benefits—increase in salary to wine and dine your friends. And you'd be in charge of station equipment budgets." He glances at Laura, makes an encouraging gesture. 

"We really do need updated equipment," Laura sips wine, smiling over her glass.

Jean sits forward, mouth open slightly, wondering. "Did you two come up with this deliberately?"

"No, I've wanted to take you to dinner for some time," James says, quietly. "But you were my boss's boss. And soon you'll be my boss. Tonight you are neither. But most importantly, I didn't ask you before because," his eyes hold hers for a moment and then he looks away, inexplicably shy again. He gives a tilt of his head. "You were married."

"Some rules," Laura observes, "are not meant to be broken." She licks her lip and looks down. 

"And Laura, I couldn't bear to share Lewis with you." His eyes dance at what he thinks should be a joke. He sobers quickly, seeing tenderness in her eyes.

"James, what about those other rules?" Laura taps his hand with a finger and then runs her thumb over his knuckles. He watches what she is doing with fascination. He feels warmed from within, as if he is being wrapped in something he is just beginning to comprehend. He is comfortable with the two women, the food, the wine, the conversation. Life. 

"What other rules?" he asks, looking up suddenly, glancing from one to the other, as if the conversation has interrupted a daydream.

"Precisely," says Laura with a twinkle in her eye.

++++

James steps up to Laura's door, nearly trampling a potted plant. Jean stands to one side as Laura unlocks the door, opens it.

"I'll put the kettle on," Laura says, turning to James and Jean.

"I should go," says James quietly, looking at them both. Jean is pressing close to Laura, who slips her arm around Jean's waist. She meets James' eyes as if inviting him to comment.

The moment stretches, unreal and dreamlike, as they stand together on the porch. 

"Thank you. Just—well—uh, for dinner," he says, biting back a surprised grin. He huffs a laugh. _And why not? 'Is solace anywhere more comforting than that in the arms of a sister?'_

Jean reaches up and draws him close, her palms on either side of his face, message and intent clear. She gives him plenty of time to pull away, plenty of time to dodge, plenty of time to turn to his cheek. But he doesn't, thinking, _I want this._

She kisses him—friendly, but perhaps with the promise of more. He startles himself by kissing her back, very tentatively. They had both enjoyed a lot of garlic bread at dinner. He smiles at the thought, against her lips. The kiss lasts a moment longer than curiosity would warrant. She slides her hand down his lapel and holds him with her gaze. Questioning, but not pushing.

_What is being offered here? Jean and Laura sharing their time, each comforting the other, yes. But--do they want me to share that comfort?_

"Dessert?" asks Laura, one hand on his arm the other reaching toward Jean. They stand in a circle, searching each other's faces, letting the tension between the three of them build until James coughs a nervous laugh. He lets his head and shoulders drop back, breathing out slowly to a count of eight. He stares at the cold dark sky, his gaze taking in the light beyond the open door and the two women who want to share that warmth with him.

"Is this—just dessert?"

Jean smiles, a cheeky grin, accepting his hesitation. "Just dessert." 

Laura quirks a smile, obviously delighted that he hasn't fled. "For now."

**Author's Note:**

> Solace quote is from Alice Walker.


End file.
